No Mercy
by whathappensontheholodeck
Summary: Set a year after Voyager's return home. How does Kathryn manage without the duties of commanding a starship? AU in which C/7 happened, just way earlier along Voyager's journey. Inspired by a tumblr post by t-lessnomore. This is my first fic ever, so please be nice. Huge thanks to AJ, my perfect (and also incredibly cute) beta.
1. Chapter 1

It was unusually cold for September, the mist hanging threateningly over San Francisco's surburbs. She was chilled to the bone, the thin material of her leggings barely protecting her from the icy wind.

"Shit!" she muttered.. Unsteady on her feet, she just dropped her shopping bag. The other people waiting at the transporter hub watched silently as the small auburn-haired woman clumsily tried to pick up all the items. "Shit," she repeated when she realized her precious bottle of Jameson had cracked. She had spent the better part of her ridiculously low pension on whiskey this month. "But I'm not gonna start drinking cheap liquor," she murmured to herself. "I am… was a Starfleet captain! A captain with Irish ancestors! I will not- I will not buy cheap whiskey!" The people stared at her, whispering. Kathryn realized she'd shouted the last words out loud. Embarassed, she tried to hide her face.

From the corner of her eye she saw a bunch of people materializing on the transporter platform. A man approached her and knelt down to help her. "Thanks," she said, the alcohol slurring her speech.

"Come on, let's get you home." The man patted her on her back, took her shopping bag and pulled her up by her arm. She stared at him.

"Tom!" she squeaked and pulled him into a bear hug. Though she knew she shouldn't, she was way too drunk to care.

"Shhh Kathryn, it's fine. Come on," he said looking nervously over his shoulder, realizing some of the people queuing already recognized her. Kathryn noticed it as well, glaring at Tom. "Are you serious? You – of all people – you, Tom Paris care what people think of you? Or me? I don't care— YES IT'S ME YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT YOU CAN STOP STARING I'M NO FUCKING–," she started to shout at the people passing by but she was interrupted by Tom guiding her down the street with his hand steadying her, obviously heading for her apartment.

"Would you stop doing that? I can walk by myself!" she exclaimed.

He sighed, but let go of her arm.

"Wait! How do you know where I live?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's in the database, Captain."

"Don't call me that," she whispered barely audible.

"Call you what? Captain?" He merely shrugged. "The stripes on a tiger are hard to change."

They walked in silence until they reached the little house she lived in. She searched for her keys but didn't make a move to open the door.

"Kathryn? What is it?"

She avoided meeting his eyes.

"It's nothing. I'm fine," she whispered. As she turned to unlock the door, Tom thought he saw a tear escaping her eye but he wasn't sure. Kathryn Janeway did not cry. 'Well, she rarely cried,' he mentally chided himself, remembering their time on Voyager.

"Tom?" her voice reached him, startling him out of his reverie, surprisingly quiet and insecure. He looked at her, standing there with her keys in her hand, obviously not sure what to do next.

He nodded, making a quick decision. He took the keys, unlocked the door and crossed the doorstep. It was dark inside and he noticed the faint smell of alcohol. He looked around, trying to figure out where the kitchen was. "Kathryn? Would you like some coffee?" She didn't respond, obviously deeply absorbed in thought.

Kathryn just realized she hadn't cleaned up in weeks, so she quickly made her way to the living room, trying to tidy at least some of the mess. An empty bottle caused her to falter. Tom, who had followed her, swiftly steadied her. He called the computer for light and the abrupt harshness of it left them both blinking. When his eyes got used to it, he took a real first look at his former captain, obviously shocked by her appearance.

His eyes confirmed what his hands had already felt. The pink sweater barely covered the fact that Kathryn was just skin and bones. She looked unbelievably tired, the thick layer of make-up hardly covering the dark circles around her eyes. These incredible eyes which once used to pierce through him, reading him like a book, were now lifeless and puffy from crying.

But suddenly something sparked in them.

"Don't look at me like this," she hissed. "I don't need your pity! Now go and don't you dare coming back!"

She pushed him towards the door and he was so surprised he put up little fight. Standing just outside, he turned around. "Captain—"

"I – AM – NOT – YOUR – CAPTAIN – ANYMORE!" she shouted hysterically.

He moved in her direction, holding out his hand to touch her. "Kathryn…" he tried again. She just looked at him, tears rushing down her face and slammed the door in his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Kathryn stood behind the door, shaking so hard she could barely stand. She watched Tom through the spy hole as he stood there, aghast. Then he turned and walked away quickly, looking somehow determined.

'Damn it!' she thought to herself. 'He _will _come back.'

She poured herself another whiskey, downed it and took the bottle with her. Still shaking, she sat down on her favorite spot in front of the fireplace. Taking another mouthful of whiskey, she tried to escape the cold emanating from her heart. Still, the liquor couldn't stop the tears from flowing. She hated to cry. She hated feeling weak, not being in control. Kathryn Janeway, the captain, needed a purpose in life. When she finally came home after 7 long years of surviving in the Delta quadrant, the weight of being in command 24/7 was lifted from her shoulders, but she also lost something: a reason to go on ignoring long repressed problems and feelings.

Having lost her mother a few weeks after their return home, she decided to take a new command. Admiral Paris offered her to take the _Wayfarer, _the new Intrepid-class ship. But it just hadn't worked out. The ship was very similar to Voyager, but there was no sassy ex-drone to object her decisions, the pilot at the helm wasn't Tom Paris, her security chief wasn't Tuvok, the chief engineer wasn't B'Elanna Torres… and her second in command certainly was not Chakotay. She winced, even at the thought of his name.

Suddenly remembering the good old times in the Delta quadrant, having dinner with Chakotay, discussing science with Seven and B'Elanna, drinking whiskey and playing pool with Tom, she regretted sending him away. She snorted. "The good old times in the Delta quadrant… You really are some lonely sad freak," she murmured.

Realizing what she just said, she looked at the half empty bottle in her hand, astounded. Did she really drink _that_ much?

She got up and headed for the kitchen, her mind set on having a coffee, after all. But her movements were clumsy and making coffee turned out to be more difficult than expected. Trying to get the right amount of coffee beans into the old fashioned maker, she considered getting a cup of the desperately needed beverage from the replicator. Eyeing it suspiciously, she decided not to rely on her poor luck with replicators in general. Kathryn sighed, concentrating on the task ahead when suddenly her door chimed.

Starled, she knocked over the box with the coffee beans, spilling them all over the kitchen floor. "Damn it!" she cursed. Quickly making her way to the front door, she slipped over the beans, fell and banged her head against the wall. "FUCK!" she shouted, groaning loudly. Kathryn wanted to stand up, but whenever she tried, everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Outside Kathryn's house, Tom and B'Elanna were fighting. When he came home and told his wife about what just had happened, she just freaked out, stormed out of the house, dragging Tom with her. He tried to reason with her but try and stop a worried half-Klingon.

"What if she doesn't want to see you, 'Lanna?" he asked. "Let her get sober, please, go visit her in the morning. We need her to be fully concentrated and reasonable when we ask her to do that. We'll just have to convince her and I'm not sure if that's possible right now."

"We can't just leave her like that! She was our captain - our friend. We should've tried harder to find her when she disappeared," B'Elanna hissed, remorse creeping into her voice.

"I know you're right…" he answered.

"We won't have to tell her about the plan yet. I just want to check on her, make sure she's fine," she said.

Tom sighed and nodded wearily. "It still should be him, not us."

"You know the big guy won't come and I certainly don't think this should be their first encounter after not talking to each other for a year," she answered.

"Fine, but we'll talk to him later, alright?"

"Alright." His wife smiled at him, ringing the door bell.

Suddenly, they heard a loud thud and Kathryn cursing. Alarmed, they looked at each other, knocking on the door like crazy, waiting for their former captain to open it. When nothing happened, B'Elanna quickly tried to override the entrance code.

"Shit! This isn't working!" she burst out, trying to rip the panel off the wall.

"B'Elanna! Stop it! Let me try," Tom interrupted her. "Please…"

She stepped back, taking a deep breath.

After having tried a few combinations, the lock hummed and Tom opened the door. The couple rushed inside, finding the petite frame of the woman who once seemed so invulnerable to them lying in her own vomit.

"Kahless…" B'Elanna whispered, rushing to her side, trying to wake her up, gently at first. "Captain… Captain! Kathryn!" she shouted, noticing the wound on her forehead. "Tom, get a detox and something for this cut on her head, it looks nasty!"

Tom rushed upstairs, looking for the bathroom. Stumbling into her bedroom, he saw an enormous amount of hypos scattered around her bed. Trying not to think about whose privacy he was currently invading, he grabbed a few of them, finding a detox and an anti-inflammation.

Rushing down the stairs, he almost tripped over his own feet. He found his wife cradling Kathryn's head in her lap, wiping her face with a wet cloth. She slowly regained consciousness, moaning slightly. Tom pressed both hyposprays against her neck and her eyes fluttered open. She looked confused.

"B'Elanna? What are you doing here? What happened?" she asked, becoming more and more agitated.

"Shhh, calm down, everything's fine. You fell," B'Elanna said softly, visibly relieved.

"You should've let me make coffee," Tom said. "Obviously you weren't up to it." Smirking, he pointedly looked at all the coffee beans scattered on the floor.

Kathryn just snorted and rolled her eyes at him. But bit by bit she realized what kind of situation she was in, noticing the sour smell of stomach contents, eyeing the mess in her apartment as if she was seeing it for the first time. A blush crept up her neck.

"We should call a doctor," Tom said suddenly.

"Oh no, I'm fine!" she tried to reassure them.

"Yeah, sure… You even said that after having been assimilated by the Borg, remember? We'll call a doctor, don't even try to stop us!" Tom insisted.

She smiled weakly, then tried to get up. "Ugh," she groaned, her head falling back into her former chief engineer's lap.

"See?" B'Elanna chided her.

Kathryn sighed. "Fine, but we'll _go to the doctor's _and I'll get clean before."

The couple exchanged a glance.

"Okay. Do you need help?" B'Elanna asked, deciding she was not up to fight with her right now.

Kathryn blushed again. "No, I'm good. But maybe you could just help me getting to the bathroom? I think I cracked my ankle."

B'Elanna smiled and lifted her up easily, throwing her husband a look that told him to wait and tidy up the mess in the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

After Kathryn had closed the bathroom door, she lost the little self-restraint she still possessed. She crumpled, falling to the floor, ashamed and horrified by what had become of her. Her former lieutenants saw her like this, drunk and pathetic. They had to pick her up and clean up her barf.

She moaned, tears filling her eyes. "Pull yourself together, Kathryn. You can do this. You must not show any more weakness," she muttered to herself.

"Captain? Everything alright? Did you say something?" B'Elanna shouted through the door.

"I'm fine!" she answered, wiping her eyes.

She quickly showered and while drying herself, she realized she hadn't taken any fresh clothes with her.

"B'Elanna?" she sighed. "Could you please get me trousers and a shirt? They're in the closet in my bedroom."

"Sure," B'Elanna said.

Tom had just finished tidying up the kitchen when she came in.

"Is she alright?" he asked anxiously.

"I hope so," his wife said, propping herself on the door frame. She looked tired.

He moved, swiftly taking her in his arms, hugging her tight. She sighed, leaning into the embrace. "I have to go get Kathryn some clean clothes," she whispered.

"Okay. It'll all be fine, I promise," he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head. She reluctantly let go, going upstairs quickly.

Entering the bedroom, she came to a sudden halt. "Oh boy," she gasped, taking in the mess in front of her.

She sighed, went for the closet and searched her former captain's clothing, trying not to think too hard about what she was doing.

Going through neon pink leggings and tank tops with leopard print, she desperately looked for something plain and simple. 'Kahless,' she thought to herself. 'I need something that doesn't scream _Midlife crisis_!'Picking a grey t-shirt, black slacks and some underwear that she didn't regard too closely, she hurried downstairs.

She knocked at the bathroom door and Kathryn opened, clad only in a towel. B'Elanna stopped dead in her movements, just having noticed how thin she was, her clavicle and the bones of her shoulders clearly jutting out.

Kathryn cleared her throat. "B'Elanna… My clothes."

"Oh, yeah…" B'Elanna blushed and handed her the pile of clothing.

She returned to the kitchen, where Tom was waiting for her, sitting at the table. She sat down on the chair next to him, both of them keeping silent.

"Hey flyboy? How did you pick that lock? What was the code?" B'Elanna asked.

Tom smiled sadly. "It was Chakotay's date of birth."


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as Kathryn had finished showering, they went to the transporter hub, an awkward silence making the way seem twice as long as it actually was.

Tom and B'Elanna watched their former captain closely. Kathryn nervously fumbled with her shirt and her hair. It was nearly as long as it had been at the beginning of their journey through the Delta quadrant.

When they arrived at the station, the transporter operator eyed her intently. Kathryn blushed, remembering how she behaved a couple of hours ago. B'Elanna laid her arm around her shoulder in a protective fashion, which earned her a surprised but thankful look.

At the hospital, Tom and B'Elanna sat in the waiting room after Kathryn had been called in. Half an hour later, they started to wonder what was taking them so long. Usually the cut on her forehead should have been healed in a matter of seconds.

Tom sighed. "Darling, I gotta go. I promised my mother to pick up Miral at 6."

"It's alright, I'll wait here and come home as soon as possible," his wife replied.

He gave her a quick peck and made his way out.

A few minutes later, the doctor entered the waiting room, obviously searching for someone. B'Elanna stood up and approached him hesitantly.

"Are you here with Kathryn Janeway?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she answered, trying to hide her discomfort.

"Are you related to her?" he continued.

"No, I'm not," she replied, becoming more and more concerned.

"Do you know whom we could call? There are some matters to discuss," he said vaguely.

"Ummm, her mother died a few months ago and I don't think she would want you to call her sister. They're not exactly friendly recently," B'Elanna explained. "I don't know about any other living relatives. Why? What's wrong?"

"I can only discuss the matter with more relatives," the doctor sighed. "It would be very helpful if you would… watch out for her a bit."

"Of course," she said, distracted by Kathryn walking out of the doctor's office, heading for the exit.

"Hey, Kathryn!" she shouted. "Wait!"

B'Elanna hurried after her, catching her by the arm, swirling her around. She was shocked by the look on Kathryn's face. It was one of pure rage, pain and indescribable fear.

"Lieutenant Torres," she spat. "Don't you dare touch me again!"

"Captain… What- what is going on?" B'Elanna asked, deeply worried about her.

"That is none of your business!" she hissed. "Leave me alone… Please!"

She practically begged, tearing up. B'Elanna stared at her, appalled, and decided to leave her alone. For now. "If you need anything…" But she never got to finish her thought, as she was interrupted by Kathryn twisting her arm out of her grip and storming off.

Dumbfounded, she went back home quickly, almost tripping over her own feet a couple of times, her mind busy with going through possible diseases and worst case scenarios.

When she got home, Tom was already waiting for her in the kitchen, feeding Miral. "'Lanna, how did it go? Is everything alright?" he asked.

She just shook her head and merely shrugged, her desperation clearly showing.

Tom swiftly stood and lifted her chin. "Darling, what is wrong? What happened?"

"I don't know," B'Elanna sobbed. "She wouldn't tell me, neither did the doctor. He wanted to know whether she had any relatives he could call but I couldn't think of someone. Oh Tom, he looked so serious! He even told me to watch out for her but… I didn't. She just stormed off, crying and I didn't stop her…"

Her husband hugged her tight, whispering in her hair. "Shhh… It'll be fine, 'Lanna. We'll let her calm down and call her tomorrow."

She relaxed a bit. "We should call Chakotay, don't you think?"

"Are you serious? They haven't talked in months and you know that!" he said incredulously.

"But what if we can't get through to her? She needs help, I think," B'Elanna insisted, pulling slightly away from him.

"If we can't help her, we'll call him," Tom acknowledged, pulling her close again.


	6. Chapter 6

Kathryn crawled into the bathroom, breathing heavily. Leaning over the toilet, she threw up several times. She grimaced, tasting whiskey mixed with digestive juices.

'Oh Lord,' she thought, trying to remember how she even got home. Bracing herself against the bathtub, she tried to get up. "Ugh," she groaned, failing to support her own weight. Kathryn fell into the tub, moaning at the sensation of the cold ceramic against her overheated skin.

She leaned back and remembered what the doctor had told her a couple of hours ago…

"_You suffer from severe alcoholic cirrhosis," he said softly. "I can heal it, of course, but still I would highly recommend you to stop drinking. If you need help with it, there are numerous institutions and counselors who would be very helpful and discrete."_

_She just stared at him, a million thoughts going through her head. "I will be fine," she quickly tried to reassure him. "Doctor? I don't have much time on my hands right now. Could you..?"_

"_Begin with the treatment? Of course," he replied._

_After having finished healing her liver, he gave her a list with names and addresses of rehab centers. "Please, consider asking for help," he said, looking her deep in the eye._

_When she got home, she went straight to the kitchen. Wiping away her tears, she sighed and grabbed a bottle of Jameson._

"And here I am," she muttered. "Again."

She knew she had a problem. She just didn't see why she should anything about it. Who cared? And if she drank herself to death… Who cared? Kathryn snorted, trying not to start crying again.

If Seven could see her like this… "Oh no. Oh no no no," she snapped at herself. "Don't go down that route again! She's not here. She cannot see you. She will never see you again—" she clamped her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stop the sobs from rising in her throat. Unsuccessfully.

"Oh Seven," she wailed. Kathryn hugged herself tightly to lessen the sharp pain that always rose in her chest when she spoke Seven's name out loud. She gagged and quickly leaned forward, vomiting into the tub. "SHIT SHIT SHIT!" she spat, looking at the mess on her pants and feet. Well, at least that distracted her from thinking all too much about the woman she had sworn to protect like her own child.

Groaning, she clumsily got rid of her clothes and showered. She didn't take long baths anymore. Too much time to think. 'Although,' she thought. 'Maybe I could fill the tub with whiskey. I'd gladly drown in it.' She chuckled darkly.

At the same time at Tom and B'Elanna's place…

"Here you go," B'Elanna murmured, shoving a spoon of baby cereal into Miral's mouth. Her daughter chortled, obviously satisfied with her dinner.

In the living room, the communications consol beeped. Tom called "Hey 'Lanna, it's Chakotay! I bet he wants to speak to you."

She stood up, going straight to the console. "Could you feed Miral, please?" she asked, turning around to face her husband. He just smiled at her and went to the kitchen.

B'Elanna took the call and Chakotay's face appeared on the screen. She smiled. "Hey big guy, what's up?"

"Nothing special, I just came back from Trebus and wanted to check out if everything's fine," he said, running his hand through his hair.

"Ummm yeah, we're doing good," she replied hesitantly. "Miral is growing like crazy."

"It's been nearly two months since I've seen her," he sighed, tugging at his newly pierced ear.

"You know what? Why don't you come over tomorrow evening?" she asked. "We're free."

"Sounds great!" he grinned. "Is 6 o'clock okay for you?"

"Sure! Miral will be delighted to see Uncle 'kotay. And me, too," she added. "See you tomorrow!"

Chakotay nodded, smiled and ended the transmission.

"What did he want?" Tom called.

"He was just checking if everything's fine," she said, entering the kitchen.

"What did you say?" he asked, his brows furrowed.

"I didn't mention the Captain's… situation. If that's what you mean," she sighed. "Whatever that _situation_ might be."

"Do you plan on telling him?" he questioned.

"I don't know yet…" she said slowly. "He ought to know, don't you think? But maybe she should get the chance to tell him herself. I hate sitting on the fence like this. They should sort their problems out. Both of them."

"Yes, absolutely. Although you have to admit that he's been a jerk since Seven's death," he replied.

"Oh yes, he has," she acknowledged. "By the way, he dyed his hair. And he's got an earring now! It's pathetic…"

"Well, I guess he went straight from mourning widower to Mr. Midlife Crisis," Tom said, rolling his eyes.

His wife shot him a death glare.

"Okay, okay. That was mean, I know. But don't you think he's been a tiny bit self-centered lately? I mean, it's not like we haven't lost a friend, and the Captain lost someone who's been like a daughter to her!" he explained.

"Yes, I know… But he's my friend. And he has lost his wife. I can't leave him alone now, no matter how childishly he behaves," she said. She sounded tired.

"And I don't expect you to! But you've got to see that he shouldn't have left her like this. Telling his best friend that the accident was her fault," he retorted. "He knew she was already blaming herself for what happened. It was just selfish to shut her out like that!" Tom stood up and continued talking while pacing around. "It destroyed her! And you know that! She was always so strong until the man she loved for years married the woman she practically raised like her own daughter."

"Tom…" B'Elanna tried to interrupt him.

"No, let me finish!" he said. "It broke her heart when she had to wed them, but she did it. All she wanted was them to be happy and she sacrificed her own well being to this. And then, just a couple of weeks later, she lost them both." He sagged down to the floor. She knelt next to him and cupped his cheek.

"She did not lose him, Tom! He'll come to his senses soon!" his wife said. "I promise. And if he doesn't… Well, let's say I can be very convincing." She winked at him to ease the tension.


	7. Chapter 7

When Chakotay pressed the buzzer on the panel at Tom and B'Elanna's residence, he experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He nervously tugged at his ear, somehow anticipating that something was wrong.

He shook himself. 'Don't be stupid! You're becoming as superstitious as your own father,' he thought to himself.

Still, when B'Elanna opened the door, the feeling intensified.

"Hey big guy," she welcomed him, her smile not as convincing as she probably hoped it to be. "What's that thing on your ear?"

"Hello," he smirked while pulling her into a hug. "It's good to see you, too."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on in, dinner's almost ready. Tom is making tomato soup, your favorite."

His eyes lit up. 'Maybe I really am paranoid', he thought. 'Everything seems to be fine.'

After they'd had dinner and Chakotay brought Miral to bed ("'Kotay bed, 'Kotay bed!"), they sat down in the living room, enjoying a rare bottle of Antarian cider.

"To the family!" Tom raised his glass to them.

Chakotay's eyes became clouded, thinking of the last time when he heard a special someone raise that exact same toast.

B'Elanna and Tom flashed each other a knowing glance.

Tom cleared his throat. "Has been a long time, huh?"

When Chakotay didn't answer, he tried again. "Have you seen the captain lately?"

Chakotay threw an angry look at him, trying to make clear that he didn't want to discuss this topic now.

"Chakotay…" B'Elanna began.

"B'Elanna!" he interrupted her, standing up. "I don't want to talk about it, okay? It was her fault that I lost my wife! So no, I didn't see her and I'd prefer not see her ever again!"

"Chakotay!" she exclaimed.

He turned around to look at her. The look of pure self-pity in his eyes was making her angrier than she has ever been in her life.

"She misses you!" she screamed, striding towards him. "And I know you miss her, too! Why are you making this so hard on both of you? Seven's death was not her fault and you know that!"

"_She _sent her on that away mission!" he spat.

"Seven wanted to go! Nobody could've stopped her!" Tom intervened.

"But I should have," Chakotay suddenly sobbed. He slumped to the ground, holding his head in his hands. "I should have…"

"Chakotay," B'Elanna said, gripping his shoulders. "Look at me."

He slowly raised his head, looking her directly in the eyes.

"This was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. _But—_and I want you to listen to me very closely now _— _it was neither your fault, nor the captain's!"

"But_—_," Chakotay began. But Tom interrupted him.

"No! No _but _anymore! No more _she was sending her on that mission_! Don't you see what you did to Kathryn? You destroyed her while you were wallowing in your self-pity! All the time, you were mourning over the loss of a woman you only idealized after her death!"

The older man stared at him, dumbstruck.

"Come on, your marriage wasn't that happy! You know that you're just trying to persuade yourself of that. You were fighting _all the time_!" Tom knelt down in front of Chakotay, who still seemed speechless.

"I know you wanted to make it work… But it didn't. You gotta be honest with youself, old man!" He patted him on the back and stood up, leaving B'Elanna alone with one of her oldest friends.


	8. Chapter 8

After a hot cup of tea and a glass of Aldebaran whiskey ("It's green," Chakotay had said, frowning. Still, he had downed it in one huge gulp.), B'Elanna decided to take the risk to approach the subject of Kathryn's current condition.

"The capt - Kathryn wouldn't touch this, y'know? Still sticking to her good old friend Jameson."

He didn't even bother to answer.

"Irish Whiskey," she tried, hoping he would take the hint. "Lots of Irish Whiskey."

Still, he didn't respond.

B'Elanna sighed. She was too tired to beat around the bush.

"She's having serious alcohol problems."

His head shot up. "What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about your - former best friend drowning her problems in alcohol," she said impatiently.

"What- what problems? Is she okay?" he stuttered.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Didn't you listen to me earlier? Everyone, including herself, blames her for Seven's death. And she's lonely. Her mother is dead and I don't think she has even one person she could talk to."

"But she moved away… She shut us out," he murmured, tugging at his ear.

"You think so? Did you even try to reach her? I think no one did," she said. "I don't blame Harry. He's having deep space mission after deep space mission. But _we_ should've called her! _You _should have gone see her!"

He looked away, obviously ashamed.

"When did you see her?" he suddenly asked.

"Two days ago," she answered. "Tom went to see her… He wanted to talk her into going on active duty again."

"What? Why?" he asked.

"The Enterprise-E reported Borg activity in the Beta quadrant. They're heading for earth, so they're coming closer to us each day that passes," B'Elanna said. "We need Kathryn Janeway's help. No one knows as well as her how the Borg Queen's mind works."

"_The Borg_?" He was clearly shocked. But he composed himself quickly. "I'm sure you'll convince her," he said confidently. "She wouldn't let that happen."

"I'm not so sure if she even cares about anything these days," she said doubtfully. "And you mean _we _will convince her!"

"What?" he asked. "Oh no B'Elanna! I don't think I can face her just yet."

"Gutless p'taq! You _will_ see her! And you _will _apologize for leaving her alone like this!" she spat. "You owe her!"

"Yes, you do." Tom stepped into the living room. "And I just called her. We'll meet for dinner, at our place. Tomorrow. I said you'll be there, too, old man."

_Meanwhile at the Janeway residence…_

"Fuck!" Kathryn grumbled. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

'Why did I let him convince me?' she thought to herself, downing another drink. 'When have I become this weak?'

She snorted. 'Well, my crew has always been my soft spot, hasn't it?'

She sat down on the cold floor, hugging herself tight. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried not to think about her conversation with Tom earlier. She didn't succeed.

_[…]_

"_No Tom, I'm pretty busy at the moment. I'm sorry. Thank you for the invitation but I really can't come," she tried to get rid of him._

"_Miral would love to see you. She talks about you all the time," he said frowning._

_She sighed. "Sorry, maybe another time."_

_Now it was his time to sigh. "Please. We need you. Starfleet needs you."_

"_Tom?" she asked, obviously confused. "What is this really about?"_

"_I need to talk to you about it in person. It is really important. Your crew needs you, Kathryn."_

_The sound of her name, so rarely used the past seven years, and the prospect of being needed made her resolve soften. "Alright. I'll be there," she said._

"_Great," he smiled. "Chakotay will be there, too."_

_And then he hung up so fast she didn't even get a chance to respond._

…

"Coward!" she said, her words echoing from the walls.

'Chakotay of all people!' she thought and quickly poured herself another drink to choke off the panic attack rising in her chest.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Huge thanks to Singing Violin for beta-reading this chapter.**

The next morning, Kathryn woke up early, still sitting on the cold kitchen floor. Rubbing her sore neck, she looked around, trying to remember the events of the last evening. The empty bottle next to her explained her unbearable headache. She groaned as she clumsily struggled to her feet.

Holding a hand over her eyes, she tried to protect them from the harsh light. She blindly stumbled to the replicator and ordered a coffee, a detox hypo, and some painkillers. Then she pressed the hyposprays to her neck, gulped down the coffee, and headed for the back porch. It appeared to be a beautiful day, but the diffuse light of the winter sun did not provide the warmth she desperately needed, neither literally nor figuratively. She shivered slightly, pulling her bathrobe tighter around her lean figure.

Kathryn thought about everything that had gotten her to this point in her life. How she became this lonely. She thought about the Admiral, who had convinced her to take the risk of traveling through the Borg transwarp hub. The Admiral had admitted that she'd intended to prevent Seven of Nine's death, but she had somehow miscalculated and come too late. By the time she boarded Voyager, Seven was long gone. Temporal mechanics never were her strong point. At least there were others that could be...were saved by way of shortening their journey.

She mentally shook herself, trying desperately to forget about that encounter. Back then, she'd had the chance to catch a glimpse of her own future, and she hadn't liked what she saw. Still, she hadn't done anything about it, hoping that simply changing the timeline would be enough, and now, here she was, getting older and lonelier every day, the lines on her face becoming deeper, the change of timeline seemingly having had little effect on her, personally. If anything, her future was looking even grimmer than the Admiral's. At least, at her current age, the Admiral was still aboard Voyager with a job to do and a loyal crew to help her do it.

A tear escaped her eye and she angrily brushed it away. Today she would not cry. She would not show any weakness in front of Chakotay. And she would look good. She didn't want to appear weak. That would only make her more vulnerable to Chakotay's accusations. Suddenly, she was afraid. What if he screamed at her again? What if he still wasn't over Seven's death? She wasn't sure she could deal with it.

Meanwhile at the front door…

Chakotay pressed the buzzer for the third time now.

'Maybe this was a bad idea,' he thought. 'I'll see her tonight. I shouldn't have come here…'

When he had woken up that morning, he had been very nervous because of the upcoming dinner. He had thought it would be a good idea to talk to Kathryn beforehand. Without Tom and B'Elanna listening. Now he wasn't so sure anymore. "She's not opening the door, you idiot," he said out loud to himself. "Maybe she doesn't want to see you."

'But maybe she isn't answering the door because there's something wrong, something bad happened,' a small voice in the back of his head warned him.

He sighed, deciding he would at least check around back, just in case she was in the yard.

In the meantime, on the back porch…

Never had she felt this lonely. Not even after Seven's death. In those days, Tom had been there for her, telling her over and over again that it wasn't her fault. Sometimes, when she couldn't hide behind the captain's mask anymore, she had even allowed him to hold her.

But Tom and B'Elanna were now busy raising their daughter. Tuvok was spending much time with his wife and kids, of course. And she was all alone.

She crumpled, sobs starting to rise in her chest. This time, she let the tears flow.

Suddenly, a voice startled her out of her crying fit.

"Kathryn?"


	10. Chapter 10

He stood in front of the garden gate, his hand on the knob. Sighing, he hesitantly opened the gate. He felt like an intruder. Still, he had to know if Kathryn was fine.

His mind set, he made his way through the garden, heading for the back porch. That was when he saw her. The slumped silhouette of his former, oh so strong captain, lying on the icy ground, wearing nothing but a nightgown and a bathrobe. He froze. A cold fist gripped his heart, fear racing through his veins.

'Spirits,' he prayed. 'Please, let her be alive!'

Shaking himself mentally, he hurried towards her. Only when he was just a few steps away from her, he realized that she was crying, sobs racking through her small body.

"Kathryn?" he choked out. His voice sounded strange, so distant.

She flinched, abruptly turning her head. He looked her in the eyes and gasped at the thunderstorm of emotions he found there. Disbelief, desperation and loneliness showing clearly on her face. She seemed so very young, looking so vulnerable and small. Yet, she appeared so much older than the last time he'd seen her. It wasn't only because of the lines on her face… Underneath the churning sea of emotions, her eyes looked dead.

"Oh Kathryn," he murmured, kneeling down next to her. He reached for her, but she flinched again, shying away from him.

"No, this can't be real," she whispered, obviously confused.

He experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach. Carefully he reached out to touch her shoulder. "Kathryn... It's me, Chakotay."

Her features softened somewhat, so he took her face in his hands, feeling the desperate urge to comfort her. "Gods, I've been an idiot," he muttered, self-loathing creeping into his voice like acid. Again, he reached for her, trying to pull her into his arms.

She sobbed, struggling to get up. "You – you come here," she stuttered, her voice growing louder with every word. "You come to my house after… after all this time? After everything you did to me – and you… you think that's enough? Admitting that you're… that you're an idiot? You've been an asshole, Chakotay! A selfish asshole who gave a shit about his friends… or about me!"

She poked his chest with every word she said, tears spilling from her eyes.

"Kathryn, listen," he began.

But she interrupted him. "No! I can't do this! Now, go away!"

"Kathryn…"

"Get the hell off my property! And don't you dare come here uninvited ever again!"

He forced himself to look into those incredibly blue eyes, now sparkling with anger and gut-wrenching anguish. He desperately wanted to stay and help her, but he knew when he lost a fight against Kathryn Janeway.

Chakotay turned around, leaving her alone again.

When he was gone, Kathryn went straight to her bedroom, searching her closet for the bottle of 21-year-old Bushmills whiskey. It was the first thing she had bought when they got home after their seven-year-long journey through the Delta quadrant.

Opening the bottle on her way downstairs, she already took a huge gulp before pouring a fair amount of the amber liquor into a glass.

She wiped away her tears, downed another shot and then went to the communication console in the living room.

Undecidedly, she ran her fingers through her hair, her fingers hovering over the button to call Tom and B'Elanna. But she didn't know what she should tell them. That she couldn't come? 'No, this sounded way too important to cancel it,' she thought. 'But what else can I do about it? Tell them that I don't want Chakotay to come?' She snorted. That would be so childish. 'And it's their house, so they can invite whomever they want…'

If she'd ask them to uninvite Chakotay, they'd surely ask for a reason. And she certainly didn't want to tell them about her breakdown.

"Ugh," she groaned. "Looks as if I'll have to pull this through…"


End file.
